


That Would Be Enough

by Kacka



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Friends to Lovers, Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-06
Updated: 2017-06-06
Packaged: 2018-11-09 15:04:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,634
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11107044
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kacka/pseuds/Kacka
Summary: Bellamy is psyched to find out Hamilton is coming to his city, but when Clarke outlines her plan to guarantee them tickets he's not totally sold on it.





	That Would Be Enough

**Author's Note:**

> This is a real thing where i live and i'm legitimately debating doing this...

"So, Hamilton."

Bellamy looks up from his mountain of grading and frowns. "No, it's Blake actually."

Clarke rolls her eyes at him and drops a bag from his favorite sub place in his lap. He checks the time and simultaneously is and isn't surprised that it's already two o'clock. How she knew he'd forget to eat is beyond him, but he's grateful for it.

"I meant the show, dumbass."

"What about it?"

"It's coming to town." Bellamy promptly chokes on his sandwich and Clarke thumps on his back, grinning at him proudly. "I guess you hadn't heard yet?"

"Seriously? When?"

"November 2018."

And just like that, the bubble of his excitement pops and he's left glaring at her. "You made me choke on my sandwich for that?"

"I would've done it for less, if I could."

"Why are you bringing this up over a year in advance? This isn't Broadway. Tickets aren't on sale yet, are they?"

"No," she admits, leaning over to pick out a banana pepper from his sandwich. He swats at her hand but lets her take it. She did, after all, get him exactly what he likes. "But they're going to go fast when they are on sale. Which is why I've been looking into ways to guarantee we'll be able to get them."

Bellamy gives her a dubious look. "Are you bribing someone? Is this a rich person thing?"

"Ex-rich person thing, thanks. Apparently, the only way to get them before they go on sale is if you have a membership for this season that gets automatically renewed for next season."

"They have season tickets? To the theater?"

"Yep. I think it's seven, maybe eight shows at a slightly discounted rate. Plus I'm pretty sure there's a VIP lounge."

"And if we sign up for it to be renewed--"

"Hamilton is one of the shows included in the 2018-2019 season."

Bellamy stalls, taking a bite and swallowing, mostly to make her stew.

"How much is a season pass?" He asks at last, and Clarke grins, victorious.

"Hook, line, and sinker."

"It's _Hamilton_ ," he grumbles, but then she scoots in close to him so he can see the website on her phone over her shoulder, and it's hard to regret letting himself get played like this. Not when the rewards are so great.

It turns out the season pass a bit of a splurge, but a pretty good deal for what he'd be getting: seven shows, seven nights he gets to hang out one-on-one with his best friend (whom he could not possibly see as much as he would like to; there simply aren't that many hours in the day), and the promise of Hamilton tickets in a year.

Still, the thought of spending two hundred and fifty dollars on something so inessential makes his skin itch.

"You can afford this," Clarke says, nudging him. She's still sitting so close, practically on top of him. "You're, like, the best at budgets. And haggling. And clipping coupons. I know it feels weird for you to spend this much money on entertainment, but I think you can swing it."

"I know," he sighs, dropping his head to her shoulder. Her hand immediately finds his curls, scratching at his scalp until he relaxes into her a little more. "It's just-- could we be any more WASP-y? Am I turning into the thing I despise most?"

"Self-fulfilling prophecy," Clarke teases. "You're not a jerk for wanting to spend your hard-earned money enjoying something."

"I guess. It still feels a little shitty."

She loops a lock of his hair around one finger and tugs gently. "You could always donate an equal amount to charity to alleviate your guilt."

He laughs and picks his head back up. "Is that another rich person secret?"

"You know that's all I have to offer. So? You coming with me to all these shows or not?"

It's not like he was going to say no, but one glance at her hopeful expression and there's no way in hell he ever could.

"Fine," he sighs. "But if I get all cultured and shit, I'm blaming you."

"As is your right," she agrees, but starts filling out the online form with this little pleased smile on her face, and it really wasn't much of a choice at all.

* * *

"Sorry, hang on," Raven says, waving her beer so vehemently Bellamy is afraid she's going to spill it. "You guys are going to pay for _fourteen_ musicals just to be sure you'll get Hamilton tickets."

"Have you actually listened to Hamilton?" Monty asks. "I feel like you wouldn't be this skeptical if you knew how awesome it is."

"Maybe if you've got a giant boner for history."

"Which Bellamy does," says Miller, and he and Raven cheers each other. "I like how we all just accepted the fact that he and Clarke are going to go on fourteen _dates_  together."

"What?" Bellamy frowns. "No. It's-- I've gone to the movies with friends before. This is the same as that."

"Dude," Monty smirks. "No, it's kind of not."

"It's sitting in a dark room, watching a thing, only live instead of on a screen."

"Yeah, and going to the movies with someone is never considered a date," Miller says, dry. "Think about it-- you're both dressed a little nicer than usual, you drive together to save money on parking, you probably grab a bite to eat--"

"Maybe dessert or a drink after," Raven adds.

"Plus, then the show is people singing about their feelings for three hours and not, like, shooting and blowing stuff up and half of New York getting demolished, which is at least fifty percent of movies these days. I'm just saying, it's a whole different vibe."

"And he would know," Monty pipes up. "He was in all his high school plays. I've seen the photos. There are some where he's wearing _tights_."

Raven grins. "Miller, you've been holding out on us."

"It's just never come up," Miller shrugs. "I've got nothing to be ashamed of."

Monty leans into him. "Again, I've got the photographic evidence to back that up." He frowns. "Where did this conversation start?"

"Bellamy and Clarke and their theater dates."

"Oh, right. Yeah." He pulls up a new note on his phone. "So-- bets for when they'll give into their UST? My vote is after _Phantom of the Opera_."

"I'm sitting right here," Bellamy says, half annoyed and half amused. His friends pay him no mind.

"Are they doing _Shrek The Musical_?" Raven asks. "I really want it to be a dancing green ogre that tips them over the edge."

"My money is on _Les Mis_ and Bellamy's aforementioned history boner," Miller says, smirking into his beer glass.

Bellamy shakes his head, trying to repress his smile.

"I hate you all."

"Keep telling yourself."

* * *

The problem is, his friends aren't _that_ far off base. He definitely does have feelings for Clarke that go beyond her status as his best friend, and though he's told himself time and time again that he either needs to tell her how he feels or move on, it hasn't really worked. And it doesn't help that going to shows with her does actually feel sort of like a date.

"This is like seeing a teacher outside of the classroom," she says with a grin when she slides into his passenger seat on the night of the first show.

"Yeah, that's exactly what it's like."

"No, it's-- I just usually see you in a casual setting in jeans, or on your couch in sweats. You look nice."

"I figured if I dressed nicer I wouldn't feel so out of place," he admits, looking down at the shirt he'd painstakingly picked out that morning-- the blue one she complimented once, with no creases in the collar and no coffee stains. "You look nice too. I don't think I've ever seen you attempt heels before. How worried should I be that you're gonna break an ankle?"

"Not worried at all. Not that that's ever stopped you before," she adds fondly.

By the time they fight rush hour traffic and park, they don't have a lot of time at the restaurant. Clarke rattles off their orders before he can even get a word in edgewise, and after the waiter walks away he nudges her under the table.

"I love it when you take charge."

"It was for _efficiency_."

"Well next time I get to order and I'm getting you something with vegetables in it."

"You're not my mom."

"It would be pretty difficult to confuse us for one another," he agrees, and she cracks into a smile.

"You're such a dork."

When they get to their seats in the steep, crowded upper level, Bellamy finds that he can't fit his legs into the seat unless he angles them a little to the side, which leaves his thigh pressed flush against Clarke's.

"You're not even that tall," she points out. "What do actual tall people do?"

"I'm six foot, that's tall," he grumbles, just as the lights go down and the music starts.

He startles when she leans in and says, breath warm on his neck, "You're five ten at most."

"Shh, you're going to make me miss something."

"Can't have that."

Even when she sits back in her seat, she's still close enough he can smell her shampoo. It continues to be a problem throughout the first act, Clarke pinching his elbow and making comments in his ear whenever she has something to add. Bellamy always laughs or groans or nudges her back, glad all the while for the darkness of the theater that masks the redness of his cheeks every time her lips get anywhere near him.

He's surprised he can even follow the plot.

When the show pauses for intermission he finally turns to look at her. Which, in retrospect, was a mistake, because she's all flushed cheeks and bright eyes and wide smile. Enthusiasm is a good look on her, not that he's found one yet that he doesn't like.

"Sorry, what?" He asks, when he realizes she's looking at him expectantly.

"I asked if you wanted a drink. You doze off for a second there, grandpa?"

"They serve drinks here?" Clarke reaches back and grasps his hand so they don't get separated in the flow.

"Of course they do. They've got like-- medium-fancy wine and probably something on tap. Honestly, I don't know why I didn't tell you about it when I was trying to convince you to become a theater lover with me."

"It's like you don't know me at all."

The second act carries on much the same as the first, though Bellamy is a little less tense about Clarke's closeness with a plastic cup of wine in his hand. On the ride home, she convinces him to drive them through her favorite fast food place to get ice cream cones and he tries to not hit any other cars when she chases drips with her tongue.

And then they're back at Clarke's apartment complex. If it had been anyone else there with him, after as great an evening as it was, he might have kissed them.

As it is, there's a long moment of eye contact before Clarke ducks her head. "You should get home. It's probably frowned upon for you to cut your morning classes tomorrow."

He snorts. "Yeah, that's not so much an option for teachers."

"Figures. Thanks for driving. I can take us next time, and you can order dinner. With a vegetable."

"Maybe more than one if I'm feeling wild," he agrees, smiling. She smiles back and there's another strange, heated moment before she opens her car door. "See you Saturday at Raven's."

"Night, Bell."

The whole ride home he can't help but be relieved this arrangement is only seven nights, one every six weeks or so. He loves Clarke, loves spending time with her, but he's constantly wobbling on the precipice of kissing her or blurting out some sort of embarrassing confession as it is. Putting himself through this charade of having almost everything he wants, so tantalizingly close without being fully realized, makes it that much harder.

* * *

The shows keep coming and with each one, Bellamy thinks he might finally get used to it. That he won't be so affected this time around. And each time, he's reminded how ridiculous such an idea it is, to think that he might get used to being in love with Clarke.

The second show is _The Lion King_ and they blast Disney tunes all the way home, Bellamy feeling lighter than he has in a long time. The one after that, Bellamy _cries_  and Clarke has to muffle her laughter in his shoulder when she realizes, so as not to disturb the people around them. He pinches her wrist, offended, and she strokes his arm to reassure him she's not making fun of him, just delighted that he's so into it. The next show after that leaves them arguing over the nature of humanity the whole way home. (He comes closer to kissing her then than he ever has before but he's having too much fun bickering with her to _stop_ , which is all that saves him.)

Then, between the fourth one and the fifth one, Clarke goes on a date.

Bellamy has a mild crisis about it.

"I'm such a dick."

Miller makes a sympathetic noise that Bellamy can barely make out over the soundtrack to whatever game he and Monty are playing.

"You are, but I'm pretty sure it's unrelated."

"It's just... It's not like her friendship isn't _enough_. It's more than enough. It's probably one of the best things that's ever happened to me."

"Which is why you fell for her," Monty points out, not unreasonably.

"Yeah, but wanting more feels, I don't know, selfish. Nobody gets everything they want in life, right?"

"I'm never gonna get paid in kittens and bacon to sit around in my boxers all day and play Assassin's Creed, but that's only because it's an unreasonable dream. You wanting to date Clarke is not that much of a reach."

"That's you living your best life?"

"Hell yes," Monty says with a grin, and Miller kisses his temple absently.

"Thanks for the support, babe. I'm just saying, I think you dating Clarke is an attainable goal. In fact, I'd say it's more likely than the opposite."

"Not if she keeps dating this girl," he mutters.

Monty smirks. "This girl has been upfront with Clarke about how she feels. It might be an out-there suggestion, but you could try that sometime."

"Maybe," he mumbles. "Or I could just mope on your couch a little while longer."

"Well," says Miller fairly. "At least you've got a plan."

* * *

He fully intends to tell Clarke, but then she goes on a second date with the same girl. And then a third. And then she starts bringing Niylah around when their friends hang out, the two of them flirting a little but mostly enjoying the group. If it had seemed like they had any less of a connection, Bellamy still might have found a time to confess his feelings to her. But they seem comfortable together, companionable. Clarke seems happy. He can't bring himself to get in the way of that.

Of course, three weeks or so after the first date, there's another musical on the schedule. If Bellamy thought he couldn't handle it before, he _really_  doesn't think he can handle it now, so the morning of, he sends her a text. 

_Hey, I don't think I can make the show tonight, I'm basically buried in report cards. Feel free to give Niylah my ticket if you want._

She texts back around lunchtime, _Don't suffocate. I haven't re-upped my CPR certification yet,_ and he tries not to let it sting that she doesn't seem even a little disappointed he's bailing on her.

But she gets to have a fancy date night with her girlfriend, so maybe it's not such a disappointment.

It's not a total lie; he _does_ have report cards due next week, and he's not as on top of them as he'd like to be. And he's already in a bad mood, so he figures he might as well work on them, try to distract himself.

It works for a while. By the time he hears a knock on his classroom door, it's dark outside and the hallway lights are off. He's expecting it to be the janitor, but when he looks up he's surprised to see Clarke instead.

She's not in her elegant theater look but a softer, more casual version-- jeans and converse sneakers and a loose french braid, smiling at him with her arms full of takeout from their favorite Indian restaurant. His heart leaps at the sight of her.

"How's it going?" She asks, nudging a stack of papers aside so she can set the bags down.

"I haven't lost my mind yet. Or maybe I have, since I'm pretty sure you're supposed to be at the theater right now."

"I sold our tickets to Miller and Monty," she shrugs, beginning to unpack the containers. "I figured they could use a nice date night."

"You could have had a nice date night too." She throws him an amused look.

"With Niylah."

"Yeah...?"

"You know that was just a hookup, right? Well, the first one was a date until I realized she wasn't what I was looking for. But she's cool and new in town, so I invited her to do stuff with us. I'm pretty sure she and your sister are going to start dating, actually."

Bellamy sits back in his chair, stunned. "Really? How did I miss that?"

"I think you work really hard not to notice whom your sister is flirting with."

"Maybe, but I usually try to stay pretty on top of who you're dating," he says without thinking.

"Yeah?" Her smile grows. "Any reason you take a particular interest in my love life?"

He clears his throat. "Just-- Curiosity?"

Clarke shakes her head and comes around his desk, lowering herself slowly into his lap. His hand comes around her on instinct. These chairs _roll_  and tip at random. It's for safety, although-- he can't think of any good platonic reason she's sitting in his lap.

She's still got a soft smile on her face as she loops her arms around his neck, her fingers playing with his hair gently.

"That's a shame," she says, teasing in her voice. "Because the whole time on my date with Niylah I kept thinking of things I wanted to tell you about, or jokes you would make. Basically wishing I was on a date with _you_."

"Oh." He wets his lips and laughs when her eyes follow the motion. "I, uh-- I hoped that was why. It was pretty wishful thinking, but--"

Clarke laughs and leans in, and any thought in his head evaporates. He's surrounded by her warmth, her scent, the bite of her favorite cinnamon gum on her tongue, and she laughs into him when he tries to chase the taste. He grins, giddy, and lets her break the kiss.

"I know you're busy tonight," she says, brushing a curl out of his eyes. "I just-- I was going to tell you after the show. And then when you canceled, I couldn't wait anymore."

"I'm not really that busy. I didn't think I could go tonight, knowing you'd rather be there with someone else."

"You're an idiot," she says fondly, brushing her lips against his again, firm and fleeting. "You're the only one I want to go on dates with, or anywhere else for that matter."

"Good." He kisses her again, quick, because he can. "So you want to get out of here?"

"I brought food. It has vegetables and everything."

"And we can still eat it at my place. I want to change into something more comfortable." She waggles her eyebrows at him and he groans, pinching her hip. "I meant _not a tie_. Get your mind out of the gutter."

"You're not gonna dress up for me?" She teases. "It's our first date."

"It's really not. I think your impression of me is pretty set by now."

"That's true," she grins. "I know exactly what I'm signing up for."

And when they get back to his place, she takes him up on his offer of sweats and a t-shirt to change into, presses a kiss between his shoulder blades when she emerges from changing to find him plating the food.

"Still upset I didn't dress up for you?" He teases, patting her hand.

"Nah." She rests her head on his shoulder and links her hands around his middle, and for the first time he realizes he's perfectly content. "You're perfect just like this."

He bites back on a grin.

"Yeah, I think you're pretty perfect too."

* * *

"Well?" Raven prompts, smirking at his and Clarke's matching grins. They're still riding high from the night before. "How was Hamilton?"

"It was amazing," he says, completely giving into the impulse to geek out. "Everything I wanted it to be, except for this annoying girl who wouldn't stop singing along even though she can't rap worth a damn--"

"Oh please," Clarke says, outraged. "Like you weren't drumming on the armrests the whole time."

"Yeah, yeah. We're both nerds, it's fine."

"So it was worth it? All the money, all the other plays?"

"I don't regret a thing," Bellamy says, smiling into his drink so he doesn't make gooey eyes at Clarke. She seems to understand anyway, her hand lacing with his under the table.

"Yep," she says, and he can hear her smile. "It was worth every second."


End file.
